CIGARETTES AND SECRETS | r.wilkerson
reese wilkerson x reader
cw; you had been his neighbor since he was a kid, he was soon to graduate (again) and after all these years he’s spent teasing you, one late night and one shared cigarette changes things. | reqs - open | not proof read
tag list: @angelina-urmom @cryb4by-te4rs
You’d been his next door neighbour since he was seven, he’d hated you, you always seemed to get in the way of his trouble making. The goody two shoes, snitch. With a book always under your nose and always correcting him.
He could tell you felt the same about him, always judging him silently with your eyes— snitching on him immediately. The two of you yelling over the fences separating your yards at each other.
You were everywhere, you always got in the way.
You had eased up a little as you got older, and so had he, he was less violent, and you didn’t snitch on him anymore.
He began to soon consider you.. cool? Hot? One night, he climbed out of his window, with a pack of hidden cigarettes. He was restarting his senior year, it was supposed to be a genius plan, but he was beginning to rethink the decision.
He put one between his lips, lighting it up, taking one long, needed drag, when he heard the creek of your window. Which was right across from his shared room with his brothers. He cursed, trying to put it out quickly but you had already seen him and it.
You frown, looking between him and the smoking stick between his fingers.
“Those kill y’know.”
He sighed, looking you up and down in your night gown.
“You gonna tell on me?” He asked softly, liked he wouldn’t even care if you did. He was just tired, a little used to being told off. This in comparison to failing his senior year would be nothing. His mom couldn’t be angrier.
You sigh, shaking your head, hoisting yourself up and onto the small ledge of your window, with a stretch you reach over the fence with your hand, wiggling your fingers.
He raised a brow, but handed the cigarette to you nonetheless, watching as you took a drag, blow it out with a sigh, and hand it back to him. Casual— like you’d done it before.
Maybe you weren’t the goody two shoes he had once thought you were.
A smirk tugs at his lips, as he flicks off some ash onto the ground.
“Those kill y’know.” He repeats your statement, with a smug smile, and you quietly laugh, with a shake of the head.
“What are you doing out here so late?” You ask, after he takes a long drag and hands it over the fence to you again.
“Flunked my senior year, on purpose.” He grins, though it’s a little sad. “Got everything wrong— made sure of it.”
“Why?” You blink, blowing out some smoke, and handing the stick back to him. “Surely your mom was—”
“Pissed?” He repeats, taking a drag. “Big time.” He shakes his head. “Everyone was excepting it anyway, they all think I’m an idiot, maybe I am, maybe I was going to flunk anyway, maybe I did this on my own accord, because I wanted it to be my decision. ”
You sigh, as he hands you back the cigarette. The item being passed between you quite frequently.
“You’re not an idiot.” You say, “I mean.. you know that finals are multiple choice right Reese? If you got them all wrong on purpose, chances are, you knew enough of them to get wrong on purpose— you knew the right answer, to pick the wrong one, otherwise, some would’ve had atleast a little bit of a chance of actually being right.”
He blinks for a second, wondering if he’d just had a stroke, but it slowly started to make sense. He did know the answers to some, which was how he had chose the wrong one.
“You’re right.”
“I’m always right.”
He chuckles, uttering out a nickname he hadn’t called you since you were in middle school, but this time it held no real weight, no venom, it was said with affection.
“know-it all.”
You grin, taking another drag from the cigarette, that had been passed back and forth. “It’s good seeing you’ve never changed.”
“I have.”
“Hm?”
“I’m not the violent dick I used to be. I don’t pull on.. pretty girls pigtails, or smack their books to the ground.” He whispers.
“Now you just share cigarettes and secrets with them?” You playfully point the cigarette his way, flicking off some ash.
He nods taking it.
“Has the pretty girl changed too? Does she still hate the, what did you call me…” he trailed off trying to think. “Oh! Ass-hat meanie.” He laughs slightly.
“I was ten, I wasn’t creative yet!” You defend the silly nickname, throwing your hands up. “But… I have changed, no longer do I hate the ass-hat…. meanie.”
There it was, the confirmation. No hate between the two of you, something new. Fresh, different, it was visible in the way you looked at each other. It was visible in the way your hands brushed as that cigarette was passed between you.
It was visible in the way you both said goodnight, as though it was a see you later, and not just some polite goodbye.
